


How to be Bilbo Baggins: A Guide to Dragon Taming and Dwarf Managing

by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte), ArianaDeralte



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, F/F, FemBagginshield Week 2013, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/Ariana%20Deralte, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/ArianaDeralte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbiton is being plagued by dragons, and Bilbo has been nominated to go to the dwarves to learn to kill them. She didn't count on befriending one instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Intro

**Author's Note:**

> For this [prompt ](http://fembagginshield.tumblr.com/post/50503528103/prompt-i-really-would-love-to-see-a-how-to-train-your) and FemBagginshield Week 2013. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither of these movies belongs to me.

  


_This is Hobbiton. If there were a map showing it, it would be sandwiched right between the words, “no” and “where.” My village. In a word - bucolic. Every building is built into the side of a hill. We have farming, gardening, and farming. In the past we’ve been plagued by wolves and goblins. But more recently, a new pest has arrived – dragons._

_Most people would notice that there were dragons roaming their lands at night, eating their livestock, and trampling their gardens. Not us. We’re hobbits. We have issues with anything that smacks of adventure._

_My name’s Bilbo Baggins. Respectable name, I know. But I’ve not been living up to it recently._


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo ventured into the night, her hand gripped tightly around her mother’s sword, Sting, in order to stop it from trembling. She had never been out alone at night before. During the Fell Winter her mother, Belladona Baggins, had ventured out to do battle with wolves and goblins a few times during the dead of night. Once, Bilbo had come along since there was no one else willing to hand out hot food and drinks to those guarding Hobbiton, but she had never been alone and only seen the wolves at the distant edges of the torchlight. Yet here she was venturing out without a torch and with a foolish wish to capture or kill a dragon. It was the most Tookish thing she had ever done, but her neighbors, no, the whole town had driven her to it.

The dragons came in late summer. The first Bilbo heard of it was the complaints of her neighbors that their livestock was disappearing. She worried it was wolves. But every hobbit knew that the Brandywine River kept wild animals from entering their land. The Fell Winter had been a fluke. So if no wild animals could get up to Hobbiton, then the livestock must be running off, and it was deer or really large rabbits which kept trampling the gardens. Bilbo had accepted this explanation for a time, not wanting to make a fuss, but then she found a very clear dragon footprint in the soft loam of her garden one morning. Not that she had recognized it at first, but Bag End had a respectable library which happened to contain the one and only book in Hobbiton on dragons. 

So with the guide clutched in one hand, a handkerchief to mark the page showing dragon prints, she had run to the Thain - her grandfather. He had not been inclined to leave his second breakfast, but she had finally convinced him to follow her up the hill to Bag End. Except when they got there, Holman Greenhand was there with his apprentice, Hamfast. Bilbo’s spirits had fallen at seeing her now pristine garden. Without the footprint, and with Holman swearing that it had only been the tracks of a different breed of rabbit than Bilbo was used to, she wasn’t believed.  


So now, after a few nights to work up her courage, she was going to get her proof. She stubbed her toe on a rut in the path. “Confounded dragons,” she muttered. One of the Proudfoot clan nearby kept pigs. They had lost one of them the night before so Bilbo was sure that if she watched the pen, a dragon would come back to take another. She found a rock near the pen and settled in to wait. One by one, the faint lights she could see in nearby hobbit holes went out. It was a good thing the moon was nearly full or she would have been able to see nothing at all. The pigs were white with speckles of black on them, so they shone under the moonlight. It was quite peaceful out, if a little cold. It would be just her luck to be out here on a night when the dragons didn’t come. 

The ground beneath her shuddered. She tensed. Then a long head plunged into the pig pen, and Bilbo had her first look at a dragon. She gasped. Her book had told her the common green dragon was smaller than a pony. This dragon was larger than a horse and had a neck long enough to reach the top of the Thain’s Hall - the largest in Hobbiton - without stretching. She regretted that she hadn’t finished reading The Common Guide to Dragons because she had no idea what this type was. Her gasp drew its’ attention. 

The grass was slippery with dew. That was the only thing that saved her. As the dragon jutted its head forward, flames spraying towards her head, she took a step back and slipped. The flames passed over her body. She was lying nearly under the dragon’s chest, and Sting was still in her hand. Bilbo rolled, drove the sword into the fleshy part where the legs met the chest, then scrambled away. It gave a fire-filled bellow of pain before giving chase. 

“Help!” she yelled as she ran. Her path took her past the Party Tree, just as the dragon drew back to send another blast of flame at her. She jumped around to the other side of the tree just as it was released, and stood there shuddering in fear as the flames licked either side of her. “Oh, why did I listen to my Tookish side,” she wailed. There was a crack as one of the branches fell. She looked to her left and saw the massive orange head of the dragon twist around the side of the tree to peer at her. It drew back to flame. If she had been told that she was going to die of incineration before this, she would have fainted at the very idea, so a very distant part of her was proud that she at least held onto the sword and stood tall. 

The dragon gave a strange sort of belch, a little wisp of flame dripping out of one side of its mouth. She got a face full of smoke instead. Somehow, it was out of flame. Bilbo grinned. She darted under its head, this time thrusting towards its heart. The dragon reared back, and let out a long cry. It took off into the sky. Other dragons rose into the air as well. She let out a cheer, feeling nothing but the elation of survival and triumph. 

“Hobbiton is in ruins, and you are here cheering like a fool,” said a voice that sounded suspiciously like her grandfather. Bilbo turned. The Thain was in his nightshirt, as were many of the hobbits who were with him. He had a pitchfork in his hand, and many of the others held hoes and shovels. Her gaze went from them to the still burning Party Tree. It was 150 years old. 

“I’m sorry, Grandfather.” A dragon flew by, a sheep clutched in its talons. They all watched it head north towards the Blue Mountains. “But I did prove there were dragons stealing our livestock.” 

“We could have spared these few animals, Bilbo! Winter is around the corner, and I have an entire village to feed.”

“Hobbiton could do with a little less feeding,” thought Bilbo, but she didn’t say anything. It would be hypocritical since she was pudgy around the middle as well. 

“I still think we need to get rid of the dragons,” she said instead. “They are not taking much now, but if they’re ruining gardens, then they might ruin the fields. What if they burn the harvest?”

Her grandfather loomed over her. “They would not have burnt anything if you had not been out here stirring them up.” The Thain let out a deep breath. The rest of the crowd began to mutter. Bilbo didn’t have much hope for her reputation after this night. “You started this mess, Bilbo Baggins, so you will have to finish it,” said grandfather finally. 

Bilbo sighed. “Fair enough.” Behind her, the Party Tree continued to burn. She winced as one of its branches gave way with a groan. “But I really don’t know what I’m doing. I have only the one book on dragons.” 

The Thain nodded. “I know. That is why tomorrow you will leave for Ered Luin. The dwarves there will train you on how to take care of dragons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's looking like this fic will end up a mix of narration chapters like chapter 1, and more narrative chapters like this one. If anyone has a problem with that, please let me know. Likewise, this is unbetaed, so if you see any big problems, comment and I'll fix them. 
> 
> I haven't changed either Bilbo or Thorin's names because a) [Tolkien](http://www.lotrgfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=281) actually mentions that he changed Bilbo's name from Bilba (because -a is the masculine ending for hobbits) to Bilbo because that sounded more masculine to him, so Bilbo is actually a female name, and b) because no one seems to change Thorin's name when they genderbend him, probably because it would be Doris or something (assuming that female dwarves follow similar naming conventions to male dwarves). Yes, I've put way too much thought into this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this. I kept writing later scenes in the story, but getting writer's block with this chapter.

Bilbo’s trip to the Blue Mountains went well for the first few days. She knew her luck was never that good so she was expecting something to go wrong, but the jet of blue flame hitting the tree beside her still startled a yelp out of her. 

She crouched, while looking wildly around her. Her hand closed upon a good sized rock. There was a rushing noise and this time it was a bush that was on fire. Was it a dragon? And what was it doing moving around during the day? 

There was a thump behind her. She turned, wound up, and threw. The rock hit the corner of one of the dragon’s yellow eyes. It shook its head, closing its eyes tightly. Bilbo shakily drew her sword. This dragon was much smaller than the one she had faced in Hobbiton, but if it had any flame left she was still dead. 

It hissed at her. “Leave me alone,” she shouted. The dragon reared back in surprise for a second. The sunlight glinted off its’ silver and gold scales, causing her to squint. She ducked, and swung. The sword was enveloped in blue flame. Sting was elvish steel, and didn’t conduct heat thankfully. Bilbo aimed for the wings, but the dragon was twisting as well so instead her fire-heated sword cut through one of the short wings on the tail with a sound like cloth ripping. The dragon flailed, blundering right into Bilbo. She screamed when Sting hit her arm, raising an instant burn. Then she screamed again as she, and the dragon, went tumbling off the cliff which made up one side of the path. Her shoulder hit a rock as she went down, but she landed on something soft and wet. 

Bilbo’s hands found moss underneath her as she tried to sit up. The burn on her arm stung, and her shoulder hurt to move, but by holding that arm still, she was able to pull herself into a sitting position. She looked around, then froze.

The dragon had hit the ground right in front of her, and was even now getting up. Its’ yellow eyes blinked open, and it looked around. She held her breath. The eyes focused on her. It rushed towards her, and up and over her, claws scrambling at the cliff. Bilbo whimpered and hunched into the side of the cliff as it crashed down, almost on top of her. The dragon let out a cry of what could only be frustration. It ran in a tight circle around the small pool that was in front of them before launching itself into the air. Bilbo winced in sympathy when it hit the side of another cliff instead.

She finally realized why it was so frantic. They were in a deep sinkhole with a sheer cliff on all sides. There was water running down a moss covered waterfall and pooling in the middle of it, but even the waterfall was a good 15 feet in height. She placed her hand against the moss covered cliff behind her back and tried to get a hold of the slippery surface. Even if her arm hadn’t been injured, she doubted she’d be able to climb out.   
Bilbo was trapped. The dragon was growling, almost muttering to itself while prowling in dizzying circles around the pool. And she was trapped with a dragon that had just tried to kill her. 

“The Valar hate me.” She banged her head against the rock, eyes closed in despair. 

She opened her eyes again and screamed. The dragon was face to face with her – its’ eyes were almost the size of her face! It roared at her. She went limp with terror. It may not be able to get out, but it still had claws and flame. Sting glinted in the grass, several feet away. Bilbo would never reach it in time. 

“Please don’t,” she said. “I don’t think either of us will get out of here without each other.”

Much to her surprise, that made the dragon pause. It made some strange noises. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” she said, wondering if she’d taken a blow to the head when she fell. _The Common Guide to Dragons_ had very explicitly stated that while some dragons gave the appearance of intelligence, none were more intelligent than your average dog or horse. 

The dragon gave her a frustrated look. It looked away from her for a long time before heaving a great sigh. It turned back and repeated the sounds from before, only slower. And thus began one of the most frustrating language lessons Bilbo had ever received in her life. 

Dragonese (as she had taken to calling it in her head) was not just a matter of speech, but also body language. They had started with simpler words after it became apparent that speaking slowly and loudly was not the key to Bilbo understanding. The word for fern was the same as the word for moss only with an ear twitch. Plurals up to five were indicated by how many times the dragon blinked while saying the word. “Many” was indicated by a wave of the right claws. The language only got more complicated from there. Bilbo was thankful she truly did have a talent for languages because it still took her several days to get the basics down.

Thankfully, during the next week, they were able to communicate enough (mostly through drawings in the dirt to be honest) to come up with some plans for getting out of there. Her standing on the dragon’s back and it stretching to its’ highest reach was not enough. She was still a few feet from the top and although her shoulder and arm were healing, it would be awhile before they could bear her full weight. They weren’t in danger of starving because there were fish in the pool, but neither of them were happy, and the time not spent in language lessons was spent with both of them futilely trying to fly or climb out. Finally, after several days of thought, Bilbo came up with a solution. 

Her pack had still been on her back when she fell. Inside was her favorite corset – the last one sewn by her father before he died. She didn’t wear corsets often, preferring her mother’s specially shaped breast bindings, but sometimes corsets were necessary. Bilbo stroked one hand against the metal ribs covered in smooth silk one last time before determinedly getting her sewing kit out of the pack. 

She had to cannibalize her pack’s straps as well, but several hours later she was done. Bilbo started to approach the dragon, who watched her warily. It was seeing the hint of fear in its’ eyes that made her realize she had forgotten her manners. 

“Botheration,” she muttered. “I am very sorry. I should have introduced myself long before this. My name is Bilbo Baggins.” She bowed. “At your service.” 

The dragon blinked in surprise, but gave an awkward bow as well. “My name is- mrahwa” she said.

Bilbo had not seen that word before but she knew it was some type of plant. “Evergreen?” she guessed. They played a very strange game of charades for a while which made Bilbo resolve to teach the dragon the Westron alphabet soon. In the end, she guessed the name. 

“Myrtle,” said Bilbo. Her grin of accomplishment was matched by the dragon. She held up the contraption she’d made of her corset and the pack straps. “If you let me strap this to your tail, I think we can both fly out of here.” 

“Yes!” cried Myrtle. Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. And sure enough, with a string attached to the end of the wing flap so Myrtle could control it while flying, they were out of the sinkhole by noon. Neither of them said a word about it, but somehow they continued their journey towards the Blue Mountains together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonese is from the How to Train Your Dragon books. How awesome is the new trailer for the second movie btw? 
> 
> Next chapter will be the dwarves! It may be awhile since I'm a graduate student and I'm taking an intensive course this summer as well as prepping for a research trip next month. I'll see what I can do though:)


	4. Chapter 4

_Dwarves. In a word: stubborn. But that’s only because ‘as hard-headed as the rocks they were formed from’ is too much of a mouthful to say. They’ve been plagued by dragons longer than Hobbiton has existed. Most people would give up and move somewhere less… attractable to dragons. But not dwarves. They’d rather fight the dragons every day of their lives then give up one inch of land._

_Their current king is Thrain son of Thror. They say that when he was young he tied two dragons necks together with his bare hands. I totally believe it too._

_Every year the young dwarves of Ered Luin are trained up in dragon slaying. It’s an honor and a privilege. If you’re a dwarf._

* * *

The room was low by the standards of men with a great iron chandelier in the shape of a dying dragon presiding over a large table. On the other side of the table was King Thrain, flanked by any number of nobles who were not only better dressed than Bilbo, but infinitely better armed. Bilbo felt more nervous the longer she stood under the stern gaze of the king. He had finished reading her grandfather’s letter then spent the last few minutes staring hard at her. The rest of the dwarves in the room did the same. 

“Very well,” he finally said. “You will train with my children.” 

The dark haired dwarf in blue standing next to the throne gave a startled jerk. Bilbo’s attention was caught. She was strikingly beautiful. The dark blue tunic really brought out her blue eyes - eyes that were currently glaring at Bilbo with contempt. 

Bilbo shuddered a little, abruptly looking away. No sense is admiring someone who already seemed to hate her. 

Thrain gestured to his left, pointing at the beautiful dwarf. “This is my eldest daughter, Thorin.” Thorin’s glare only intensified. Thrain pointed further past Thorin. “And these are Frerin and Dis.” The two dwarves were nearly identical despite the opposite genders. Both had blond hair, high cheekbones, beards that only barely qualified as beards rather than scruff, and straight, pointed noses. Dis had her hair in one thick braid while Frerin’s was a mass of tiny braids, all pulled back behind his head. Bilbo hoped they never changed their hair styles because she wasn’t sure she could tell them apart otherwise. 

“I’m honored,” she managed to say, though she was rather worried that Thorin was going to ‘accidentally’ slay her during their training. Did the dwarf practice that glare? Bilbo was surprised her clothes hadn’t caught fire. 

“That’s settled then,” said King Thrain. “Balin here,” he gestured at short dwarf with a fluffy white beard, “will put you up while you train. Try not to die. I wouldn’t want to harm our relations with Hobbiton.” He winked, as he said it and everyone laughed. Bilbo laughed too, though hers had a distinctly nervous tinge to it. She thought back to her promise to her grandfather and of Myrtle, hidden in the woods nearby. Then she glanced at Thorin who was still staring at her with murder in her eyes. Bilbo had a feeling this was not going to end well.


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo was introduced to everyone else right before they began training. There were two other dwarves. Dwalin, who was apparently Thorin’s best friend and Balin’s little brother, though they didn’t live together. And Dori who smiled politely at Bilbo once he heard her introduced as the Thrain’s granddaughter. They all marched into the iron bar covered pit together, Bilbo bringing up the rear. 

Thorin looked in her element, what must have been a ridiculously heavy sword held in one hand as lightly as if it were flower. Dwalin was beside her with an axe taller than he was strapped to his back. Dori seemed almost timid as he walked behind them, but Bilbo noticed he held an enormous hammer in one hand. 

“I want to learn how to cut through a dragon’s neck in one strike,” said Frerin. He was twirling two axes haphazardly in his hands. Dis smacked him upside the head. 

“Keep dreaming, brother,” she said. Frerin snarled at her, before trying to poke her with the blunt head of one axe. She dodged and went to put him in a headlock. They ended up wrestling in the dirt. Bilbo stepped around them, already accustomed to the daily, nay, hourly squabbles between the two youngest of the line of Durin. 

“I’m hoping for a mauling,” said Dwalin cheerfully. 

Thorin grinned. “It’s no fun if you don’t get a scar or two,” she said. 

“Yay,” Bilbo said with absolutely no enthusiasm. “Permanent scars.” Dori grinned at her. Bilbo had the feeling that her sarcasm hadn’t been understood.

“All right, lads and lasses,” said Balin. “You’re going to face a lot of different dragons in this place. Common greens, gronkles, zippers, and more. So get ready!” He headed over to a door and pulled out a big, iron pin.

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in shock, but Dwalin beat her to it. “You’re just going to let the dragon in here with us?” he said. 

“Best way to learn,” said Balin cheerfully. Of course, he was riding a chain on a pulley up to the upper level so he had no reason to be worried about the dragon. 

The dragon burst out of the door. It looked like a bunched up caterpillar with spikes, and its mouth leaked a gas which smelt of rotten eggs. “This is a gronkle. Don’t get hit by its’ shots or you’ll die.”

“Shields,” roared Thorin. She was a natural leader. Everyone, even Bilbo, scrambled for a shield. Only the shields were made of heavy iron and wood. She couldn’t even lift it off the ground. Bilbo crouched behind it instead, cursing every Valar she could think of who could have gotten her into this mess. She didn’t even want to kill dragons anymore!

“Don’t worry, Bilbo,” shouted Balin. “You’re small and weak. The dragon will probably think you’re sickly and not bother with you.” Bilbo wished she knew some better curses to shout at him. Dwalin was already trying to put out his smoking hair from a shot that passed too close to his head. 

“How many shots can a gronkle fire at one time?” asked Balin from above them. 

“They only have six shots!” shouted Dori. Frerin and Dis seemed to take this as encouragement because they rushed the dragon together. Frerin’s shield got fried, and then he was knocked out when Dis swung hers around to slam into the gronkle’s jaw. It didn’t even pause though and chomped clean through the shield before going after the two. Bilbo was unsurprised to see Thorin jump in between them and the dragon, shielding their retreat. She looked magnificent facing it down. 

Thorin’s shield fried under another show however and Dori rushed in. He flung his shield at the dragon and missed. Bilbo goggled when the shield embedded itself half way into the wooden wall behind it. Dwalin attacked then, but Bilbo couldn’t see what happened though because Thorin ran towards her. Thorin pulled on the edge of Bilbo’s shield while Bilbo instinctively clung to the inside handles. 

“Come on,” growled Thorin. “It’s not like you’re using it.”

“I beg to differ. I believe I’m using it for exactly what it was intended.”

“Thorin!” shouted Dwalin. Thorin leapt nimbly over the shield and Bilbo’s head. Seconds later, the gronkle’s attack hit her shield and the acidic flames began to eat through it. She let go of it and started to run. The gronkle followed. Bilbo hit the end of the dragon pit and turned to face the dragon. She instinctively brought her arm up to protect her face, and shouted in Dragonese for it to stop. It seemed to her that it did for a second, but only for a moment. She was still cowering as it ramped up to attack when Thorin tackled it from the side. What had to have been the sixth shot spattered harmlessly into the wooden walls of the pit. Balin and some other dwarves were suddenly there to drive the dragon back into its’ pen. 

“Next time let me have the shield,” said Thorin. 

Bilbo frowned. “How was I supposed to know you would use it to protect me?” Bilbo had been certain going into this that Thorin would just let her die. Had that been uncharitable? Well, at least Bilbo would show she had good manners. “Thank you for saving me.” She gave a small bow.

“It’s my duty to protect those around me who are weaker,” said Thorin. Bilbo was hard pressed not to roll her eyes. 

“Please don’t. You won’t be there to protect me when I return to Hobbiton. I need to learn to do this on my own.” Thorin looked shocked at her words. 

Dwalin had been standing nearby. He laughed. “If you refuse Thorin’s protection, you’re never going to survive dragon training.” 

Bilbo shot him an annoyed look. “We shall see,” was all she said as she walked out of the training pit, completely oblivious to the looks the dwarves were giving her. She wanted to talk to Myrtle and see if there were other ways to deal with dragons that didn’t involve both sides maniacally trying to killing each other. Maybe Myrtle knew something about handling dwarves as well…


End file.
